Am So Delicate

Picture of Siloma


Happy soul ultra pro max!

Am made of bones and flesh
Which simply means
I can be fractured by a donkey cart
I have a small pumping heart
That can go faint from a simple cut
I am unaware of my fate
And thus can’t predict my death
Whether early or late
I am perfect in health
I am strong at will

But look at me
Treating you like the worst of filth
Look at my mockery
The killings, the hate, the set-ups
Look at the wrangles I made
Look at my worst self
The masturbation, the prostitution
Look at my unworthy self
Treating others like dogs
Feeding from a heap
Look at my family
Look at the fires I have started
The things I have stolen
Look at my corrupted ways
Look at how I jeer the poor
How I take you for granted
And think very little of you

Remember how I come to you
When things fall apart
Remember how I fall to my knees
Whenever a stir is caused
Remember how you come to my rescue
Even in my most scary situations
But how do I repay you?

Don’t I snap back to my evil ways?
Don’t I yearn the beds of prostitutes?
The company of liars?
And ways of murderers?
Don’t I chose to ignore?
The very fact that you exist?
Don’t I put you in least of my priorities?
And worries?

Look at me thinking I have it all
But a pauper, wretched at heart
Look at me thinking I am the strongest
But a weak fingerling defines me

I slept in my king size bed
Placed my right hand on my left chamber
And felt that piece of meat beat
Then I remembered who placed it there
Then it rushed like horses in a race
And whirled like a desert storm
Then I realized it can stop
At whatever time you please
Am just but a delicate soul
Who thinks has it all

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